


Life Ain't Easy When You're Beauregard Lionette

by Averys_got_a_pen



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: #beauweek2019, Bad Parenting, Beau Week 2019, Beau's dad is a dick, Beau's parents are dicks, Child Abuse, Dairon is parent of the year ok, Day 1, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fantasy Racism, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Like, Loneliness, Offscreen Animal Death, Sick Character, Whump, alternating spelling it lionett and lionette because i cant decide which it should be, and i dont think there's a definitive answer???, beau/jester if you squint i guess, but mostly beauyasha sorry they're my otp, fantasy disease, kid!beau, made for that one passing comment Beau made about her mum not letting her have a rat, not really a sicfic but..., rated t for cussing, the child abuse isn't shown but there's a lot of talk of it and the aftermath of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-24 01:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18561472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Averys_got_a_pen/pseuds/Averys_got_a_pen
Summary: It's been a week since Beau found the rat, and it's still going strong.She keeps it hidden in an old hat box under her bed. She does her best to stay on her parents' good side, because she knows that if they find out about the rat, it'll be taken from her. Her mother has stated again and again how much she hates - hates - filthy rodents, and Beau is sure her father just wants to rid her of anything that could potentially make her happy.And so, the rat endures.ORA ten-year-old Beau saves a wounded rat and tries to hide it from her parents.---------Written for BeauWeek2019, Day 1 (this is where I'm putting all my Beauweek writings so find 'em all here :))





	1. Day 1: Childhood & Pets

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time putting my two-cents into a Critical Role prompt week. Beau is my favourite so I'm really looking forward to it! 
> 
> There are two prompts for Day 1 (kid Beau and Beau with pets) and I kinda tried to incorporate both instead of going for one or the other???
> 
> Enjoy!

It's been a week since Beau found the rat, and it's still going strong. 

She keeps it hidden in an old hat box under her bed. She does her best to stay on her parents' good side, because she knows that if they find out about the rat, it'll be taken from her. Her mother has stated again and again how much she hates -  _hates_ \- filthy rodents, and Beau is sure her father just wants to rid her of anything that could potentially make her happy. 

And so, the rat endures. 

When she first found it, she'd sneaked out of her room late at night to explore the Vineyard. She'd heard the distinctive  _snap_ of a mouse-trap, only to go over and find a wounded rat trapped inside it. She'd picked it up and carried it inside, tucking it into her dress for safety. 

At first, she thought the rat wouldn't make it. 

It shivered constantly and barely ate, no matter what she attempted to feed to it. At first it didn't trust her - she had half a dozen small bites, and one larger one, to prove it - but eventually it realised that she was trying to help. She learned that there was a spot behind its right ear, that if she tickled, it let out a little happy squeak and slowly closed its eyes. As the rat gained its strength, Beau found herself growing more and more attached to it.

"You like me, don't you?" Beau asked, late one night when her parents were asleep. The rat continued washing its legs. "You like having me around, right? You need me." she crinkled her nose a little in an attempt to quell the tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I'm not entirely useless, like father says? I'm not a waste of space, like mother said to the maid that one time when she thought I wasn't listening... you like me, right?" 

The rat finally looked up at her with - what she took to be - an affirmative squeak and she drew it up close to her, holding it very carefully so as to not hurt it. The rat tolerated the affection for approximately five seconds before squirming to get back to its box. Beau put it back, giving it a soft boop on the nose, and climbed into bed. 

The next morning, Beau wasn't feeling well.

She awoke feeling a little dizzy and nauseous. She was cold even though she was sweating and she curled into a little ball in an attempt to warm herself. It wasn't long before her tutor came looking for her, wondering where she was. Her tutor was a middle-aged, boring-looking halfling, with a rotund belly and a poorly concealed comb-over. When he went into her room to find her still in bed, he started shouting. 

Beau didn't like him shouting; she had a headache.

She was a little out of it, so she didn't really listen to everything he was saying - not that she ever did - but she got a few words:  _"lazy", "no good", "your father will be so disappointed!"_

Beau wasn't sure that the last statement was true. She was sure that her father was delighted at any excuse to yell at her. 

When she refused to get up, he came over and tried to grab her to pull her out of bed. Beau fought back with weak arms and was just dexterous enough to slip away from him each time. Eventually, he stood back, angry and frowning. She blew a raspberry at him. 

"That's it!" he shouted, making Beau wince as he headed for the door. "I'm going to get your father!" 

He stomped off downstairs, and for a few precious moments, Beau was left in blissful silence. She  _really_ did not feel well, she reflected as she lay there shivering. She felt all tired and weak even though she'd just been sleeping. 

It wasn't long before her father entered her room, looking furious. 

"Beauregard-" he snarled, approaching her bed. "You are missing your lessons. Get out of bed." 

"No." she replied, because the bed was warm and soft and comfortable. She never wanted to leave. 

"What did you just say to me?" his chest puffed out like a balloon. "Are you at all aware of how behind you are? All the other ten-year-olds in Kamordah are decades ahead of you, Beauregard. Even Fenton's boy - who is  _slow_ \- is doing better in his lessons than you are. I will not tolerate this, Beauregard!" 

She just huddled lower in her covers. She wasn't as smart as the other kids, she knew that. She wasn't as pretty as the other girls, she'd been told. She wasn't a  _proper lady_ like mother, she'd been scolded. She just wasn't ever enough of anything to anyone.

Except for her rat. Her rat didn't care that she wasn't so smart, or pretty, or ladylike. All her rat cared about was that Beau was keeping it alive. It needed her around. It didn't want to pick holes in her and see things wrong with her. 

She was pulled from her thoughts by a rough hand on her forehead. It felt oddly cold and clinical. Beau tried to remember the last time her father had ever made physical contact with her. She couldn't. 

"You've a fever." he said, frowning slightly. That didn't sound right, Beau thought, she was much too cold to have a fever. "Have you been sneaking outside again, in this _dastardly_ weather? Or down in the kitchens, taking food that you're not supposed to?" 

"No." Beau managed to mumble.

Her father stood and turned his back to her with a heavy sigh. "Why must you always insist on getting yourself into trouble? Do you have any idea how much your mother and I have to pay in medical bills for you?" 

Beau felt a stab of grief in her heart and forced down tears. Medical bills. He didn't care about her, he never did. All he ever cared about was his money. 

Without evening thinking about it, Beau reached out a vulnerable hand to him, silently begging him to hold it, to hold her, to give her any sort of comfort. She was panicking now, because she definitely was  _not_ well and what if it was something serious and she  _died_? What would happen to her rat then? Who would look after it?

Beau's father turned towards her and noticed her outstretched hand. He moved closer to her, his eyes on the small, soft-brown fingers, and for just a heart beat, Beau managed to convince herself that he cared. That he'd reach out and take her hand, or draw her into an embrace and tell her that everything would be ok. However, when he got closer, he locked his hand around her wrist and turned her arm slightly to see the already-fading bite mark that the rat had made in her arm. 

"What's this, Beauregard?" he snapped. Now that she was looking at it more closely, she noticed that the bite mark had started to tinge green slightly. Hm, that probably wasn't good. 

"It's, a, uh, I..." she struggled for an excuse. "I fell out of a tree." 

"Don't lie to me, Beauregard, this is a bite mark." his voice raised and Beau felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, felt panic welling up inside her. She tried to push down the fear, but couldn't look at him. "What bit you?" 

She didn't reply, but it turned out that she didn't need to; there was a scuffling sound under the bed. 

Beau's blood froze in her veins and she fought back tears once more as her father reached, almost robotic in movement, under her bed and pulled out the old hat box. She could do nothing to stop him as he flipped open the lid, his gaze hardening at what he saw there. Beau tried to speak, tried to make some excuse, but the look on his face froze her vocal chords. 

"For fuck's sake, Beauregard." he said quietly, almost too quietly for her to hear. She drew her covers up closer to her chin - he didn't curse very often. She was really in trouble. "Why -  _Why -_ are you like this?" 

Without another word, he walked over to her bedroom window and opened it up wide, before grabbing the rat out by its tail and holding it at arm's length. The rat flailed and Beau could see panic in its small dark eyes.

"No, father, please!" Beau said, finally finding her voice. His steely gaze turned on her. "Please. It's my friend." 

He didn't break eye contact with her as he tossed the rat out of the window. Silence descended, and then a distant splat-sound and one of the maids screamed. Her father closed the window, drawing the curtains. Then, he turned and marched toward the door, pausing to speak with her over his shoulder. 

"If you  _insist_ on being insolent." he said, his voice no more than a venomous whisper. "You can reap the consequences of your actions. If you insist on bringing vermin into this household, then  _you_ can deal with the sickness it gives you. Now get out of bed and get yourself dressed before you miss more of your lessons." 

He slammed the door as he left.

Beau finally allowed herself to let out the sob that had been building in her chest. She pressed her head into her pillow and cried and cried, and she thought to herself," _I wish I were never born_ ". 

After ten minutes, there was a knock at the door. The familiar voice of her tutor droned through the wood, "I hope you're up and dressed, Beauregard. We've Mathematics in five minutes." 

Slowly, Beau pulled herself together. She sat up. She stood up. She went over to her wardrobe. She grabbed one of the -  _stupid, ugly, wrong, uncomfortable_ \- dresses and pulled it on over her head, trying to adjust it as best she could. She swayed on the spot for a moment and then proceeded to throw up. She grimaced, knowing that she would be the one to clean that up later. 

Finally, when she was dressed and ready, she headed to the door. Her tutor stood impatiently outside, seeming surprised when she appeared. 

"Good afternoon, Miss Lionett." he said sarcastically. 

Beau ignored him. She was focused. 

The world didn't care if she cried, so she wouldn't care either.

The world didn't care if she was sick, so she wouldn't care either.

She was going to make sure she was strong enough that she wouldn't need to care.


	2. Day Two: Brawl/Learning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyy, so this is for day 2 of Beau week, sorry its super late (I've had a busy couple of days). Beau is a badass but a secret softie that just wants validation and affection. That's all I've to say on the matter. Anyway, enjoy :)

 

It really, really, really wasn't Beau's fault that the fight broke out. 

Her and Mollymauk were heading to an apothecary in Zadash, cutting through a couple of side alleys to make the journey easier on them. They came across a few thuggish looking individuals, their hoods up and their heads bowed. Beau steered Molly in around them, so as not to cause trouble, but one of them stepped out in front of her, blocking her path. Beau held back the irritated growl that rose in her throat, looking up to meet the individual's eyes. 

"Excuse me." she said flatly. The man - human, he seemed - underneath the hood instead focused his attention on Molly. 

"We don't take kindly to demons around here." he said. 

Beau was one hundred percent not responsible for what happened next. 

Before she even really knew what was happening, she was landing blows on the man's face and torso, and he staggered away, bruised and bloodied. His friends all drew weapons, and the six of them - had there been six before?! - made a loose circle around Beau and Molly. The guy who she'd hit stood and glared at her, spitting blood at her feet. 

"You've just made a big mistake, bitch." he snarled, drawing his own shortsword and putting the tip of it beneath Beau's jaw. 

"Don't you feel like this is maybe a bit over the top?" Molly asked casually, stepping forward a little to draw the man's attention off of Beau. "Six versus two in a dodgey alley. Hardly how I wanted my evening to go. How about this - fuck off?" 

One of the people said something to another. The guy that Beau had injured looked Molly in his smirking, red eyes and paled ever so slightly. 

"C'mon," he said to the others, finally withdrawing his shortsword from under Beau's chin, leaving a sharp nick behind. "They're not worth it." as they all walked away, one of the others shouted out, "Go back to hell, shithead!" 

Beau started again, but Molly put a hand on her arm. "Fuck off, Molly." 

"Stop trying to start fights with people that have pointy things." Molly replied, throwing an arm over her shoulder. "Come on, I want to get some healing potions. If you start any more fights, we might just have to use the healing potions right away, which I'm honestly not a fan off." 

Beau glared in the direction that the others had left, unable to comprehend how Molly was willing to just let the racist arseholes go. However, she finally turned and marched on ahead to the apothecary. 

*** 

It was late at night and Beau was drunk.

Hardly an unusual state of affairs. 

The rest of the Nein had all retired for the evening - they had an early start tomorrow - except for Caleb, who sat reading his book in a booth by the corner. Beau was at the bar, ordering another drink, when she recognised the asshole sitting down the bar from her. There was a familiar pattern of bruises on his face. With a smirk, she slid over, taking the seat next to his. 

"How do you get your eye make-up to look that good? I was going for smokey eye but you fuckin' nailed it."

When Beau stumbled into her and Jester's room twenty minutes later, she was grinning.

"Beau?" Jester said softly, sitting up as soon as the door opened. So much for quiet. "What happened to your face?" 

"Just an asshole." Beau replied, already heading for her bed and swaying slightly. 

" _Beau_!" Jester sounded upset. "You said you'd stop picking fights with random assholes in bars." 

"Hey, I never said random," Beau responded. "He was being racist to Molly earlier." 

Jester tutted and stood. "I have a few healing spells left-" 

"I'm fine, Jes, just need to sleep it off." 

"Are you sure?" Jester bit her lip. "I think your ribs might be broken." she poked the offending bones and Beau let out a hiss of air between her teeth.

"I'm fine, Jes." she repeated, starting to get agitated. "Back off." 

Jester seemed to shrink a little, her tail flicking behind her nervously. "Ok." she says softly, going over to her bed and laying down with her back to Beau. Beau sighed and climbed into her own bed, trying to find a position that was comfortable and not agitating her - definitely broken - ribs. "Goodnight, Beau." 

Beau sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "G'night, Jes. Love you." 

She heard a soft giggle and thought of the fond smile that Jester often reserved just for her. "I love you too, Beau." 


	3. Day 3: Mordern AU/Dairon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Child Abuse (this chapter has lots of mentions of child abuse, and dealing with the aftermath of it, though nothing is shown on-screen). If this tag might upset or trigger you, please don't read!! Be safe!! 
> 
> It's for day 3 but it's once again late because I've been working and stuff.
> 
> Also, I used interchangeable pronouns for Dairon as Matt does. Hopefully I did them justice :)

It was cold and dark out, and somewhat peaceful as the late evening struck the streets. Dairon had been at work all day, and she was doing a bit of shopping before heading home. As she was about to take her items to the counter, however, there was a scuffle and some shouting in one of the isles. She was planning on ignoring it, until she heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, get off me asshole!" 

She'd recognise that voice anywhere. The voice was the brash and deep tones of one of her students, Beauregard Lionette. The troubled teen was one of the most abrasive and prickly student at the Cobalt Reserve school in Wildemount. Which is exactly why she'd been transferred to Dairon's class, for the 'difficult' kids. Dairon was happy to have her, if for no other reason than that everyone else seemed to have given up on her. Yes, she was difficult, but all she needed was guidance. 

Dairon rounded the corner to the isle to see Beauregard being grabbed at the scruff of her collar by the man who owned the shop. She spotted Dairon and her face drained of colour, and she instantly stopped struggling. 

"What's going on here, Beauregard?" 

"You know this kid?" the shopkeeper said gruffly, giving her a little shake for emphasis. 

"Yes, she's one of my students. Has she done something wrong?" 

"She was trying to steal a bottle of Vodka." the man replied, holding up a bottle of it to make his point. 

Dairon sighed and looked at Beauregard, who was looking at the floor. She could see that the teenager's thoughts were racing, that she was trying to find a way to fix this situation without getting into more trouble. "I'll settle the damages," Dairon replied, pulling out her wallet. "And I'll take her home. There's no need to get authorities involved." 

The man considered it for a moment, but it was late and he clearly didn't want to be up all night talking to the police. "Sure. But the shithead is banned from my shop." 

When all was said and done, Dairon was leading a sullen Beauregard out to her car. Beauregard hadn't said a word the entire time - highly unusual for her - and was walking more slowly than she would usually. As they reached the car, she finally piped up, her voice quiet and trying to sound bold but coming off more as timid. 

"Are you going to tell my father?" 

Dairon froze, briefly glancing over at Beauregard. The teenager had shrunk on herself, and there was an unmistakable look of fear in her eyes that she was desperately trying to cover up. Dairon didn't know too much about Beauregard's parents, but they'd never shown up to a parent's evening, and the only time she'd seen them had been when her father had come to pick her up for detention. Dairon watched from the classroom window as Beau slowly - reluctantly - climbed in the car, and then the man was shouting, screaming, his face going red with it. Beau just sat silently in her seat, flinching slightly whenever he raised his hands. 

Dairon was no fool. She'd seen Beau come in with bruises before, with the smell of alcohol on her breath, with unshed tears hiding behind her fierce look. 

"Perhaps," she said finally, evasively. "Why did you to try to steal the alcohol?" 

She opened the car door, and Beauregard winced ever so slightly, staying right where she was. 

"It's none of your fucking business." one last weak attempt at a defence. 

"How did you get that bruise on your wrist?" 

Beauregard knew that Dairon could tell when she was lying. Dairon saw defeat and fear wash over the teen's face, and she folded her arms to hide the bruise. "My dad told me to go to my room and I didn't." 

"So he dragged you?" Dairon pressed, trying to push down the bubble of anger she could feel starting to build in her chest. 

Beauregard pursed her lips. " _Dragged_ is a strong word." she said finally, shifting her weight slightly. Dairon saw her wince ever so slightly and the way she shifted her weight... it didn't sit right with her. 

"Beauregard," she said softly, and the teenager jerked away slightly as though not used to the sentiment. "Would you please open your jacket?" 

Beauregard immediately got defensive. "Why? It's fucking cold out here."

"Please, Beauregard, I want to help you." Dairon said truthfully. Beauregard's expression was still guarded. "I won't tell your father what happened." she finally relented. 

The teenager seemed to consider it for a moment, still folding her arms protectively over her torso. Eventually, without a word, she began to unzip her jacket, revealing a jagged miscommunication of one of her ribs. There was a bit of blood on her t-shirt too, and Dairon could see a couple of bruises around her collar-bone, peeking out from under her tee. Beauregard instinctively held a protective hand over her wounded rib and a small wheeze escaped her - so quiet anyone else's hearing might've missed it. 

"Your father did this?" Dairon asked hesitantly. Beauregard didn't reply, looking away. "Come on, get in." she climbed into the car. Beauregard stood frozen for a moment, in front of the car, looking more frightened and vulnerable than Dairon had ever seen her. Then, finally, she zipped her jacket back up, set her facial expression and got in the passenger side. 

*** 

The drive was made in silence. 

Beau could feel her teacher's eyes occasionally flicking to her, but neither of them said a word. Beau just watched out the window as the darkened streets passed by. 

She'd gotten home from school today to find her father already furious. He'd found out that Beau had smoked weed in her room, and starting shouting. It was only when Beau started shouting back that things got violent. He didn't much like her shouting back at him when they argued, as he proved over again. He expected her to just sit there and nod politely as he yelled at her. She'd sneaked out after her parents had gone to bed to go to the store. Without any money, she'd had to try to steal alcohol to get anywhere. She couldn't believe she'd gotten caught, she was usually so careful. What she didn't expect, was for her teacher to show up and bail her out. 

She was dreading going home. She imagined her dad opening the door at eleven o'clock in the evening, his face red with anger, seeing his delinquent daughter on the doorstep with her teacher. God, he'd be so fucking mad when he found out that not only had she tried to sneak out, but she'd also tried to steal alcohol. She repressed a shudder and tried to pay more attention to the houses passing outside the window. 

"Wait, we're going the wrong way." she said after a moment. Dairon didn't even look around, just kept their eyes fixed on the road. They didn't reply, and Beau shrunk down in her seat a little, trying to keep track of where they were going. What if Dairon was a kidnapper or a murderer? What if they were taking Beau to some dodgey back alley to kill her? 

She balled her fists up uncomfortably, resigning herself to wait and see where they stopped. 

Dairon drove for another fifteen minutes, their eyes remaining on the road. Beau tugged at a couple of loose threads on her joggers, feeling anxiety gnawing at her insides. She fought down an apology that was bubbling up from her throat and clenched her hands around the fabric of her pants. 

Finally, the car came to a stop in an expensive-looking neighbourhood, outside a block of modern apartments. When they stopped, Dairon didn't make any move to get out. 

"Where are we?" Beau finally said, her voice sounding far smaller than she liked.

"I live here." Dairon said, speaking for the first time in a long time. 

"Oh," Beau said, trying to regain some of her confidence. "Are you a serial killer?" 

"No." 

"So you're not gonna shoot me and leave me behind a dumpster or something?" Beau double checked. Dairon gave her a look at the corner of their eye.

"No." 

"Oh, cool." Beau tried to be patient and wait for Dairon to speak, to explain, but found her foot tapping impatiently. "Why are we at your place?" 

Dairon sighed, running their thumbs along the steering wheel. "I do not want you going home," they finally admitted. "If... if your father is hurting you, I'm not going to take you back home to him." 

Beau hesitated. "It's not that bad." 

Dairon's face hardened, their lips pressing together sternly. "I can drop you home if you really want. But please let me take a look at your ribs first. I think at least one of them may be cracked." 

"'Splains why it hurts to breathe." 

"Beauregard?" 

"Yeah, sure, sure. You can patch me up." she felt her cheeks heat up slightly and opened the door, determined to get out of the car before Dairon noticed. 

Dairon took the lead as they headed to the flat on the third floor. Beau was dismayed to see that the lift was out of order. Usually the stairs wouldn't be a problem, but at that moment, each breath felt like she was being stabbed in the ribs. She figured she'd been running off of adrenaline or fear before, but now that both were ebbing, the pain was coming to her. She stopped halfway up the stairs, leaning a hand against the wall and panting a little. Dairon turned back to her and offered her a hand, but Beau pushed her away and continued up the stairs. 

Dairon's apartment was modern and tidy. As they opened the door and led Beau in, she could feel her legs starting to go like jelly. She headed over to the material sofa dominating the centre of the living room, slumping down on it. She barely registered Dairon's look of concern before they headed to one of the rooms down the hallway. They returned a couple of minutes later was a green first aid box. 

"How long has this been going on?" they asked quietly as they pushed aside the coffee table and knelt in front of Beau. They opened the first aid box and started looking through it. 

Beau looked away, unable to meet her teacher's eyes. "Not that long. Like, a couple years, maybe?" 

Dairon muttered something under their breath that Beau didn't catch. "I need to see if your ribs are fractured or just bruised, ok?" 

Beau nodded, unzipping her jacket and Dairon put gentle hands on her ribs, their touch so delicate that Beau wouldn't have been able to feel it if not for the throbbing in her ribs. There was a moment of silence as Dairon carefully prodded the ribs, careful to not aggravate them. Finally, they leaned back and started looking through the first aid box again. 

"They're not broken. Two on the left side are fractured." they said almost mechanically. 

"Why are you helping me?" Beau said, frowning heavily. Dairon looked up, a little surprised. 

"You remind me a lot of yourself when I was your age." they replied. "I need to wrap up your ribs so that they don't get worse. I can you it over your t-shirt if you'd prefer but it won't be as effective." 

Beau bit her lip, before pulling her t-shirt over her head, wincing at the stretch of her wounded ribs. Dairon eyed the bruises with something in their eyes - something as close to anger as Beau had ever seen. Then, they started wrapping the fractured ribs tightly with bandages, ignoring the way Beau was flinching. The colouring of the bruises stood out against Beau's black sports bra, a multicoloured reminder of her father. Dairon wrapped her up quickly and efficiently, and Beau pulled her slightly bloodied t-shirt back on. 

"There's not much I can do for the bruises." Dairon said quietly. "Where did the blood come from?" 

Beau looked down at her knuckles, which were bruised. "Wiped my hands on my t-shirt." 

Dairon sighed quietly. "Are you hungry?" 

Beau nodded eagerly. Dairon put away the first aid kit, tidied up, and came back with a packet of crisps and an apple. 

"I don't have much in." they said as they handed Beau the food. "I can cook something if you'd like?" 

Beau was taken aback by the kindness. Why would Dairon go out of their way to help Beau? "No this is good, uh, thanks." 

Dairon nodded and sat down on the sofa beside Beau, sitting a little more rigid than seemed comfortable. "You are welcome to stay the night if you want," Dairon said softly. "I don't have a spare bed but you can have the sofa if you want." 

"A-are you sure?" Beau frowned a little. 

"Of course." Dairon replied. "And tomorrow, we will sort this out with your father." 

"What do you mean by that?" Beau asked, pausing mid-bite of apple. 

"I don't know just yet," Dairon said. "But I know this can't be allowed to continue. We'll figure it out in the morning, alright? You should get some sleep, you look exhausted." they stood, and before Beau could reply, they went to one of the other rooms, returning a moment later with a pillow and a couple of blankets. On top of the pile was a spare set of pyjamas. 

"You ought to get out of the bloody clothes." Dairon said, putting the pile down on the sofa. "The bathroom is just down the hall." they pointed it out vaguely. "If you need anything, my bedroom is just down there on the right. Don't hesitate to wake me if you need anything, or if there's anything wrong." 

"Thanks." Beau said uncomfortably, putting the apple core on the table and seeing Dairon wince. They didn't say anything about it. 

Dairon was looking through some paperwork as Beau came back from getting changed. The pyjamas were blue and comfortable, a surprisingly good fit on her. She glanced briefly at Dairon, then slowly settled down on the sofa, putting the pillow under her head and pulling the blankets around herself. The pillow was a little lumpy and the blankets were scratchy, but somehow she felt so much comfortable than she did in her queen size bed at her house. 

"Try to get some sleep," Dairon said quietly, hesitantly walking over to the sofa and sitting down beside Beau. 

"Thanks." Beau said again, unsure of what else she could really say. "G'night." 

Dairon hesitated for a moment, then leaned over to press a delicate kiss to Beau's forehead. "Good night, Beauregard. Sleep well." 

Then, they were up and sweeping away to their room, switching off the lights as they went. Beau suspected that she wouldn't get much sleep that night on account of how hard breathing was. 

It turned out she was wrong; she had the best night's sleep she'd had in a long while. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dairon is parent of the year and you can't convince me otherwise.


	4. Day 4: Family Ties/ Hurt Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Small (I say small but I can't write only a little at a time) drabbles of Beau and H/C with the rest of the Nein
> 
> (UPDATE: I just finished writing them and literally like one of them is small so I hope you like so much fucking hurt/comfort, I don't know how many words it is, and at this point I'm too afraid to check. But I've spent all day doing it so I hope y'all enjoy =)) 
> 
> (I'm going to stay up tonight and watch critical role at 2am (I'm a brit) pray for me)
> 
> Unbetad because I spent 6+ hours writing it and I am t i r e d. Sorry, but y'all enjoy :)

Beau was pacing the cell. 

Her and Caduceus had been stuck in the five by five box for approximately two hours now, and Beau was starting to go stir-crazy. Just as infuriating, Caduceus just sat there calmly, watching her. She punched the wall angrily, ignoring the way her knuckles throbbed as blood trickled down them. She walked up to the bars and shook them. 

"HEY, FUCKHEADS!" she called. There was no response. "LET US OUT!" 

"I don't think they're listening, Miss Beau." Caduceus said calmly. Beau slumped down, drawing her knees up to her chin. She rested her forehead against her knees, trying to pretend she wasn't trapped in a box. She didn't like being trapped. She really didn't like being trapped. She fucking hated it. It reminded her of all the times her dad had locked her in her room when she was younger. 

"Are you ok?" Caduceus said softly, and Beau felt him settle down next to her. 

"Fuck off." 

"I feel as though you are deflecting." he said softly. Beau wished she could look up at him to prove that she was fine, but if she looked up and saw the cell, she'd completely loose it. She was trying to convince herself that they were still on the road, that she was in the back of the cart. 

She gritted her teeth. The ground was too hard, too cold, there was no sunlight. This wasn't the cart, this was a cell, a box, and she was trapped. 

"Hey, Miss Beau, try to breathe." 

"I'm fine." she snapped. "Fuck off." 

"Perhaps talking will help?" Caduceus suggested. 

"I don't like being trapped." Beau said through gritted teeth. "Reminds me of my dad." 

"Ah." Caduceus said. "The others will be coming for us soon." he put an arm over Beau's shoulder, and Beau allowed him, though she would never admit that she leaned a little into the reassuring touch. "Let me tell you a story of when I lived back in the Grove..."

_____

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Nott said, grabbing Beau's arm and dragging her into an alley as more arrows and bolts shot past. "You're such a fucking idiot!" she screeched. "You can't catch six arrows! You have two fucking hands!" 

Beau tried to reply but she was going light-headed. When the assailants had launched a volley of arrows at Nott, of course she'd stepped in the way. She'd caught two, knocked one away, but one had embedded itself in her thigh, another in her shoulder, and - worst of all - one buried deep in her abdomen.

"Fuck." Nott said again. There was the sound of approaching footsteps. "Can you move?" she asked Beau, who was slumped against the wall. When had she slumped against the wall? 

She nodded, silently gripping the shaft of the arrow that was embedded in her thigh. She certainly couldn't do any running with an object inserted in her leg. She gritted her teeth and pulled it out, and felt blood start pumping from the wound. She took a second to compose herself, then started running to the other end of the alley. Nott followed closely behind, occasionally firing off crossbow bolts whenever one of them got too close. 

It took them nearly five minutes to loose their pursuers. 

Beau had started lagging further and further behind as time went on, and when they were sure they were no longer being chased, she stopped entirely and fought to stay on her feet, feeling a little queasy. 

"- think we lost them." Nott was saying. Her voice was fuzzy. Why was her voice fuzzy? 

Nott turned to look at Beau just as her legs finally gave out under her. Nott tried to catch her, but given their size differences, ended up just cushioning Beau's fall to the floor. She sat Beau against the wall, muttering something under her breath and digging through Beau's pouches. 

"What - what're you doing?" Beau managed. 

"Your healer's kit, where is it?" Nott demanded, still rifling. "I don't have any potions, and you're bleeding a whole fucking lot." 

"Three arrows'll do that to you." Beau mumbled, closing her eyes and reaching into one of her pouches to reveal the healer's kit. Nott grabbed it from her hands and immediately starting wrapping the wound oozing blood on her thigh. Beau flinched, gritting her teeth. "Fucking hell, Nott." she managed. 

"Needs to be tight to stop the bleeding." Nott said, as though Beau didn't already know that. Beau's face was pale and sweaty, so she pulled out her flask and handed it over. "Only drink a little, it'll thin your blood and you'll bleed more." 

"That's an old wives' tale." Beau muttered, tipping her head back and chugging from the flask. 

"Think you can move?" Nott asked. Beau nodded. 

"Yeah I'm good as gold." 

Nott rolled her eyes, peering around. It was late at night, and they'd stopped in a quiet street that she just recognised. "You sure? The Inn is like four blocks away." 

"Don't got much of a choice," Beau grunted, shifting a little and hissing air through her teeth. "You're too far away to message Caleb?" Nott nodded. "Well then looks like we're walking four blocks." 

"Ok, but..." Nott sighed heavily, taking in Beau's dishevelled form. "We need to get those other two arrows out. If we don't, they'll just do more damage." 

"I know." Beau closed her eyes, taking another big swig from the flask. "I'll try not to punch you." 

Nott cursed her under her breath and started with the shoulder arrow, assuming it would be easier. However, it became immediately obvious that the arrow had become lodged inside her shoulder blade, and it took Nott a solid thirty seconds of Beau's cursing to pull it free. As Nott dropped the bloody arrow to the floor, her other hand was already going to the healer's kit. She wrapped the wound and gave Beau a minute to collect herself - Gods, she looked like shit - before going for the last arrow, in her abdomen.

"This one'll really fucking hurt." Nott warned her. 

"So did the others." Beau said, and Nott tried not too think too hard about the way her words were slurring. It was the alcohol, that was all. It was just the booze. 

Without hesitating any longer, she gripped the last arrow and pulled it with a wet squelch that would haunt her nightmare for weeks to come. The entire shaft was slick with blood, and the ragged cry of pain that came from Beau's throat made Nott's stomach turn. Nott couldn't tell if there was any internal bleeding, or any organ damage, but hoped, as she wrapped it, that Beau could  _just make it_ back to the inn. 

"F-fuck." Beau breathed, her voice shakier and quieter than Nott had ever heard it. Nott finished wrapping the last wound and glanced up to see Beau's eyes closed and her face deathly pale. 

"Hey, hey, none of that." she slapped Beau lightly to keep her awake. Beau grumbled something, managed to open her eyes. Nott practically dragged her to her feet, and Beau leaned as much of her weight on the little goblin as she could as they walked. Nott was becoming increasingly aware of the drag to her companion's feet, the way more and more of her weight was on Nott until she was almost entirely slumped on top of her.

 _Hey, are you guys ok?_ Jester's voice appeared in Beau's head and for a moment she thought she were hallucinating.  _You two have been gone for a really really long time and I know you said you were going to-_

"Jes," Beau said aloud, her voice ragged. "We got ambushed, can you guys come get us?" 

_Yes, of course, Beau! Where are you? Are you okay? Is Nott ok? I really hope Nott isn't dead because we don't have enough diamonds-_

"We're by the fountain two blocks over," Beau indicated to the fountain as Nott helped her rest down against it. "Nott's fine." 

There was no response this time. Beau figured Jester was out of spells. She felt Nott's cloak wrap around her, and saw the yellow eyes twitching this way and that, keeping an eye out for either enemies or their friends, whichever came first. Beau curled into a little ball as best she could without aggravating her wounds. Gods she was cold. And queasy. And so damn tired, she just wanted to sleep. 

When Nott glanced over, the human was entirely still but for the uneven rise and fall of her chest. Her face was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat, but she were shivering. Blood loss. It was all over her vestments instead of in her body. Nott went over to her, feeling a wave of affection wash over her. Her motherly instincts to pull Beau into a hug and cradle her were overpowering. Beau always looked so big and angry, but now she seemed... small and vulnerable. 

As Beau was falling asleep, she thought she felt a pair of cracked lips press a kiss to her forehead and someone whispering, "It's alright, love, I'll look after you". Later, she put it down to blood loss. 

\-----

"Beau, how much have you drank?" Jester asked, as she sat down at the table in the Tavern. It was one AM, and the rest of the Nein had returned to bed three hours ago, but their monk was still sat at the table, surrounded by empty tankards. 

"Not enough." Beau grumbled, putting another ale to lips. 

"If you keep drinking this much, you'll give yourself alcohol poisoning, Beau!" Jester said, desperately reaching out for the cup. Beau twisted in her chair, keeping the mug out of Jester's reach and draining it. "You know you can die by drinking too much, right?" 

"Here's hopin'." Beau muttered, raising the tankard in a brief toast to herself and draining the last of it. She slammed the tankard down and saw Jester's concerned gaze on her. Her tail was flicking behind her like she only did when she was really worried. 

"Beau, what's the matter?" Jester seemed on the verge of tears. Beau didn't answer, instead calling over the barmaid.

"Can I get another one?" she said. The woman looked around at the impressive array of empty cups around Beau, raising an eyebrow. "I've got gold." Beau grumbled. The woman nodded, grabbed a tray-full of the mugs and headed off. 

"Oh, Beau." Jester said softly. "Will you talk to me? Or at least let me get rid of all the alcohol out of your body?" 

"Got a letter from my dad." Beau mumbled, not looking at Jester. 

"Oh, Beau, that's great!" Jester said, perking up. She frowned at Beau's downcast mood. "Is that bad?" 

"My mom is sick," Beau replied. She grabbed a tankard that still had a couple of drops in it and tipped them back. "The, uh, the doctors think she's only got a few months left."

"Oh." Jester said quietly. 

"He wants me to come home to see her, but... I don't wanna. I don't wanna see them. I don't care. They made it pretty clear that they didn't want me, and now that she's sick they think I'm gonna come crawling back?" Beau handed the barmaid a couple of gold - clearly not paying attention to what she was doing - as she put a tankard of a thick, viscous liquid in front of her. She drank heavily from it, downing half of it in one go. For a moment, Jester thought that Beau would return it to the tankard, but she managed to hold it down. "I don't fucking care. I don't want to see them. Guess that makes me a fuckin'..." her breath caught in her throat a little. "A fuckin' awful person." 

She bit her lip hard, and looked down at the table. 

"I'm sorry, Beau." Jester said, not really knowing what else she could see. 

"Don't be." Beau said harshly. "They stopped caring about me long ago, I'm not gonna act like I do." 

"Do you..." Jester cleared her throat a little, her tail swishing. "Are you sure, though? You might never see her again. What if you regret it in like thirty years?" 

"If I live thirty years it'll be a miracle." Beau slammed down the last of the drink, and hesitated for a moment as her stomach fought off the poison she was forcing into it. "Jes, I don't think you understand, I -" Jester was horrified to see Beau's eyes starting to water. Beau  _didn't cry_. "I can't go back there. I  _can't_. I can't see them again, I can't see the brother they replaced me with. I just started to feel like there are people in this world that want me, I can't go back and see them and they-" 

And then, she was unable to continue, a small sob rising from her throat, and then the tears started to spill. Jester moved around the table to sit directly next to Beau, wrapping her arms tightly around her, her tail wrapping around her waist comfortingly. Beau cried into her shoulder and Jester just held her shaking friend, not sure what else she could do. Beau reeked of alcohol so strongly that Jester wondered if she could get intoxicated from just the scent. 

"Let's get you to bed." Jester said, finally pulling away from Beau and wiping the tears and snot off her face with her sleeve. 

Beau managed a weak, watery smile. "At least t-take a girl for dinner first." 

Jester rolled her eyes, but was relieved that Beau seemed a little more herself. She helped Beau to her feet, and she stumbled and nearly fell. With a sigh, Jester lifted Beau bridal style (Beau was too busy trying to figure out which way was up to comment), gave the barmaid a grateful nod, then headed up to their room. Jester laid Beau out on her bed, sitting next to her and brushing some of the sweaty hair out of her face. 

"Oh, Beau..." she said quietly. "We all want you around." 

She'd thought her friend was asleep, but Beau's lips slowly opened, and she grumbled out, "Say that again." 

Jester smiled and found herself blushing a little. "We all want you, Beau. We love you." 

She drew the covers up around Beau's chin, and went to move, but found a hand weakly grabbing at her wrist. One look at the tired and vulnerable look in Beau's eyes, and Jester caved, climbing under the covers behind her. Beau curled up close to Jester, burying her face in her shoulder. Jester wrapped her arms around the radiator of a person next to her, her tail curling around Beau's thigh of its own accord. 

"G'night." Beau mumbled into Jester's collarbone, and Jester felt her breathing even out. 

"Goodnight, Beau." Jester replied softly. "I love you." 

\-----

"This... isn't ideal." Fjord said as he and Beau sat on the small rock in the middle of the sea. 

"No fuckin' shit." Beau said. She was shivering violently, her arms wrapped around her body. 

The two of them had been taken on-board a pirate ship as the Captain and First Mate of the Ball Eater, only to be thrown off the plank not fifteen minutes later. The water was so cold that it would kill almost anyone straight on contact. Fjord - who'd been at sea the most - barely seemed fazed by the cold, but Beau was sure that if he hadn't have dragged her out of the water when he had, she'd have died from hypothermia or shock before now. She'd managed to get her stiff limbs working enough that they both managed to get to a small rock outcropping and climb up. The rock they were currently sitting on was only a couple of feet out of the water (meaning it kept splashing up at them), and barely five foot in diameter, so there really wasn't much space for them.

"You think the others are comin'?" Fjord asked. 

"They f-f-fuckin' best be." Beau curled in on herself even tighter. Fuck, her teeth were chattering so bad.

"Are you ok?" 

"No I-I-I'm not f-fucking ok, I'm gonna f-f-f-fucking f-freeze to death before the others get here." 

Fjord frowned a little, pushing some of the wet hair off his face and glancing at her. Her lips and the area around her eyes were slowly starting to turn blue and she was shivering so much she was practically vibrating. "Fuckin' hell, Beau." he muttered. He looked around to see if there was anywhere he could misty step to that would get them out of immediate danger of hypothermia. There was nothing. "Shit." 

"What do we d-d-do if the o-other sh-sh-sh-" Beau gave up, huffing in frustration that her teeth chattering was stopping her from speaking.

"If the other ship comes back?" Fjord guessed. She nodded sullenly, burying her face into her knees. "I assume we'll probably be exploded with canonballs. At least we'll die warm." 

She rolled her eyes but didn't reply. He bit his lip nervously. 

"Will you let me hug you?" he said finally, ignoring the daggers she sent his way and pressed on. "You're gonna fuckin' freeze to death, Beau, it's all I can think of to help warm you up." 

"F-fuckin' A." Beau muttered, before finally leaning into Fjord so aggressively that she almost pushed him off the rock. He awkwardly put both arms around her shoulders. 

"Gods, you're cold." 

"N-n-n-no sh-shit." Beau managed, burying her face in his shoulder and trying not to feel awkward about it. "If-f y-you t-tell anyone ab-b-bout this, I-" 

"Hey, cut it out." he rolled his eyes. "Save your strength. Besides, I ain't gonna tell anyone." 

Beau tried to come up with a witty reply, but her head was sort of sluggish and it wasn't working right. Fjord kept his eyes on the horizon as the sun started to set - it'd only get colder from here on out. After about five minutes, he spotted a familiar silhouette on the horizon: the Ball Eater. He carefully detached himself from Beau (fuck, she'd passed out and she wasn't even shivering anymore) and started trying to wave them down. The ship dropped anchor, still at least a half mile from them. He shouted and continued to call for them. Caduceus was probably up in the crow's nest, looking for them. The ship stayed for about five minutes, before raising anchor and slowly beginning to move again. 

They were moving further away.

"Fuck- no! This way!" Fjord shouted. No response. He turned to where Beau was half-sprawled across the rock, trying to raise her head a little. "Sorry." He mumbled, raising Beau and throwing her over one of his shoulders, sagging a little. He summoned the Summer's Dance Falchion in his hand, and pointed towards the ship. With a thunderous boom, he and Beau appeared ninety feet closer to the ship. Where it had been turning away, it slowly started turning back. Fjord trod water for a few seconds, trying to make sure Beau's mouth stayed above the water line, before casting the spell again and appearing another ninety feet closer to the ship with a thunderous boom, the water being disturbed heavily in their wake. Now the ship was facing them and actively moving toward them. 

Fjord swallowed down the cold that was beginning to seep into his bones. He was out of spells - all he could do now was swim. He was a good swimmer, he could swim as easily as he could walk, but dragging Beau with him was difficult. He did a backstroke, keeping her positioned firmly against his chest so that he could make sure her head was always above the water. The situation would've been comical if it weren't for the fact that  _he wasn't even sure if Beau was breathing anymore_.

It was a couple of minutes before the ship came close enough. Jester stood at the front, apparently getting ready to jump in. 

"D-Don't!" Fjord shouted, not sure his voice would carry far enough. "It's too f-fuckin' cold!" 

He swam as close as possible to the ship, and the rope ladder was dropped down the side. Jester climbed halfway down, her eyes filled with worry as she saw Beau's still form. She took Beau from Fjord's tired arms, climbing easily up the ladder with Beau over her shoulder like she weighed nothing. Fjord climbed up much more slowly, his limbs burning and every part of his body so damn  _cold_.

When he got to the top of the ship, the rest of the Nein were all surrounding Beau's still form. He staggered over, and to his horror, saw Caduceus leaning over her, performing chest compressions. 

"Is -" Fjord's throat felt thick. "Is... is she...?" 

"She's not breathing." Jester sobbed, coming over and burying her face in Fjord's shoulder. "W-we don't have any diamonds Fjord!" 

Fjord couldn't speak. He felt his legs give beneath him, and then a pair of strong arms holding him up. Jester slowly lowered him to floor. He was adjacent to Beau and could do nothing but watch exhaustively as she flopped like a fish under Caduceus' big hands. 

Nothing. Silence. Fjord couldn't believe it. His brain was foggy and... and his First Mate was dead. Beau was dead. 

And then, coughing and retching and Caduceus quickly rolled her onto her side so she wouldn't choke again on the water expelled from her lungs. There was a sigh of relief around the group, but they weren't out of danger just yet. 

"She's freezing," Caduceus said softly. "She's probably got hypothermia. We need to find her some dry clothes and some blankets." 

Yasha and Caleb disappeared in an instant. Caduceus settled next to Fjord, asking him questions and checking his pulse. Fjord couldn't hear him: his eyes were on Beau's body, which remained unmoving except for tiny little inhales and tiny little exhales. 

Yasha appeared a moment later with a stack of her own clean clothes and her and Jester quickly changed Beau out of her cold, drenched ones as Nott wrung out her wet hair and tied it out of the way. Caleb returned to the deck a moment later, a stack of blankets in his arms. He carefully put them over Beau, tucking them in under her to keep the warmth in. 

Fjord felt Jester impatiently tugging off his wet shirt and let her help him out of his pants, not even embarrassed by it. A couple of blankets were draped across his own shoulders, but his eyes never strayed from Beau. He crawled forward a little, until he was beside Beau, and slowly leaned forward to rest his head on her chest. Her heartbeat was sluggish and uneven, but... it was there. She had a heartbeat. She was breathing. 

He had really thought she was gone. 

A combination of exhaustion and relief washed over him and he couldn't find it in himself to be bothered to move. Beau would probably kick his ass when she woke up, he realised, but he didn't really care. His eyes slowly drew closed and he fell asleep to the sound of his First Mate's heartbeat. 

\-----

Caleb wasn't usually very angry. 

However, standing in front of the two Lionettes, he couldn't help the rage that began to bubble inside him. 

"I, uh, was just, uh..." Beau seemed so knocked of confidence, so quiet, so... so unBeau-like. "I was hoping I could him? The kid, y'know? My brother?" 

Her father sneered at her, still keeping the doorway between them. Keeping Beau out of the house. "I really don't think that's a good idea." 

"Why not?" Beau said, but Caleb could tell she already knew what he was doing to say. 

"We don't want him to turn out like you," her mother said bluntly. Beau's shoulders tensed, her jaw set. 

"Better than him turning out like you." she snarled back. 

"Beauregard!" her father snapped, and Beau - strong, unbreakable Beau - actually fucking flinched. "You do  _not_ talk to your mother like that. You're a criminal and an alcoholic and a brute and we don't want you anywhere near our son." 

"Fuck you." Beau snapped back, but it had no bite. 

An eye roll from the man. "Original." he was already starting to turn away, five minutes with the daughter he should've raised more than enough for him. "Get off the lawn before I call the guards. You know how much they love you." 

Beau actually growled, but Caleb could see the look in her eye. The self-hatred, the _why-the-fuck-am-I-like-this?_ The  _why-can't-I-do-anything-right?_

He put a hand on her shoulder and he felt her flinch at the contact which was so usual for the two of them. Her mother eyed the two of them, raising an eyebrow. 

"At least you managed to do  _something_ right." she muttered as she turned and walked back inside, slamming the door shut behind her. Caleb was left just standing in shock, staring at the door. 

"Those - those were your parents?" 

"I need a fucking drink." Beau had already turned away and was marching towards the nearest tavern. Caleb didn't have much choice but to follow her. 

Thirty minutes later, the two of them sat in silence over tankards of ale (of which Beau had had a lot... and whiskey... and wine... and shots of some kind of spirit). Her eyes were fixed on the liquid in her cup, an unreadable expression on her face. She didn't want to talk about it, she was embarrassed and ashamed. Caleb hated seeing her so downcast, so beaten, so... upset. It wasn't Beau. It wasn't right. 

"So, ahem..." he cleared his throat and she didn't even look up. "About what happened-" 

"Don't fuckin' talk to me." she snarled, before tipping back more of her drink. "I don't want your fucking sympathy or your bullshit. I'm not in the fuckin' mood, Caleb." 

"It's not, eh, sympathy." Caleb said uncomfortably. Beau finally looked up at him, pushing the empty tankard away. 

"Alright, shoot." she said finally. "Unless you start talkin' like a nerd, I'm not sure anything you can say can put me in a worse mood." 

"Well, I uh, I know you wanted to see your brother," Caleb said. He saw Beau's face stiffen and immediately pushed on. "And that's very admirable of you. After everything with your parents, to face them again after all this time to see him... that was very brave of you." 

"Yeah?" Beau looked unimpressed. "You just gonna keep showering me in fuckin' compliments? 'Cause it ain't making me feel any better." 

"I have a point." 

"Get to it then." 

Caleb took a deep breath, steeling himself a little. "Well, I don't think your parents know you very well. And I think they are very very wrong about you. I think... I think you'd be a great sister, and a great influence." 

"Yeah?" Beau swallowed heavily. "What makes you think that?" 

"You already are." he met her eyes for as long as he could bare before looking down at the table. "I've never, eh, had siblings before, but. Well. I'd be honoured to call you my irritating little sister." 

There was a moment of silence where Caleb felt panic begin to crawl up his neck, sure he'd said something wrong. Then, all abrupt and alcohol-fuelled, there were a pair of ropey arms wrapped around his chest. The hug lasted for just long enough for Caleb to process how uncomfortable he was, then the arms were gone. He blinked, and Beau was up from the table, draining the rest of her drink. 

"G'night," she said softly. Then, hesitantly. "Brother." 

"Goodnight," Caleb said with a genuine smile. "Lil' sis." 

"Don't-" Beau sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Don't fuckin' make it weird, Caleb, for fuck's sake." 

"Isn't that my job as weird older brother?" Caleb raised an eyebrow. 

"Sure." Beau turned towards the stairs. "Tell anyone and you'll wake up dead." 

Caleb almost replied that he technically couldn't wake up dead, because if he were dead, he wouldn't awake, but she was already gone. The discomfort in his chest slowly melted into something warm and fuzzy. He shook his head, finishing the last of his drink before heading to his own bed. 

\-----

Beau was sick. 

It was some kind of air-borne virus that was deadly to humans. Figured. 

Beau decided that that was why she felt like death. 

Caduceus, Jester and Nott were all ill in the room next to hers. They were throwing up a lot, and all had fevers, but since they weren't humans, the virus would probably pass in a couple of days. Fjord and Caleb were staying as far away from the four of them as possible, since Caleb was also human, and Fjord was half-human, they couldn't risk getting sick. They stayed on a completely different floor, and stayed in Caleb's bubble most of the time, the wizard recasting it just before it disappeared each time. Yasha was the only one apparently unaffected. 

Perhaps it was the Angelic blood, Beau thought through the fog filling her brain. 

Yasha had stayed by Beau's bedside since she'd gotten sick two days previously. Caleb had done some research and found out that typically, the virus killed most humans in less than twenty four hours, so Beau was doing good statistically. Physically, she didn't feel like she was doing good. 

She constantly had a fever but couldn't stop shivering, to the point her muscles were exhausted but she couldn't stop herself from shivering. She'd already thrown up anything and everything in her body, and the only thing she seemed to be able to hold down was water. Gods, she just felt so tired and  _sore,_ like Dairon had punched every square inch of her body. 

"You're awake." Yasha's soft voice stirred her from her thoughts. 

Beau hadn't realised she'd been asleep. She looked up at Yasha, who was sat by her bedside. The usually stoic Aasmiar seemed concerned, her brow slightly downturned. 

"Feel like I got ran over by a wagon." Beau responded, her voice croaky. 

Yasha didn't reply, pursing her lips and reaching for a glass of water by the bedside, guiding it to Beau's dry and cracked lips, and helping her sip it. Beau put a weak hand on Yasha's wrist. "How're the others?" she asked between sips. 

"Caduceus is much better today," she said. "He's looking after Jester and Nott." 

"They're both still sick?" 

"Don't worry about them," Yasha said softly, her eyes searching Beau's face. "It's you we should be worried about. You were asleep for... for so long I thought you'd..." she didn't need to finish. 

"Hey, I'm too stubborn to die to some stupid virus." Beau said, but she knew it was only a matter of time. How long? She'd already had an extra day on top of what she should've had. Every second she was breathing was already a gift. 

Yasha managed a small smile, but it looked more pained and forced. She gently reached over, pushing some of Beau's sweat-soaked hair off of her forehead and laying her cool palm on the burning skin. "You're... you're really fucking hot, Beau." 

"Thanks," Beau grinned. "I always knew you liked me." 

"That's, that's not what-" Yasha huffed, a frown adorning her face. "You know that's not what I meant." 

"Yeah I know." Beau muttered, closing her eyes. "Just wanted to see you-" she was cut off when a violent cough wracked her body. The fit lasted for nearly a minute, to the point Beau could feel her face reddening with oxygen deprivation, and when it stopped, she was panting. She wasn't sure when it had happened, but she was sitting up, one of Yasha's hands on either side of her torso, one on her back, one on her chest, grounding her through the fit. Yasha grabbed the edge of one of the sheets and used it to wipe a line of blood that was dribbling down Beau's chin. 

"H-hey, we match." Beau mumbled. Yasha didn't even respond, a look of fear and hopelessness in her eyes that she couldn't hide. She grabbed the glass of water again and tried to coax Beau into sipping some of it. As soon as the first drops were in her throat, she was coughing them back up, blood and water spewing out of her mouth and over the blankets. She panted as the cough wracked through her, and the pain was becoming too much. Her lungs had had enough. They were giving in on her. 

Without thinking too much about it, Yasha thrust her meagre healing magics into Beau's body as her head drooped and blood dripped from her lips. They'd tried everything of course; restoration spells, healing spells, healing potions, herbal remedies,  _all_ of Caduceus' fucking teas. Nothing worked. 

Beau became entirely still in her arms, slumping against her. Yasha thought for a terrible moment that she'd just witnessed Beau's final moments, and then she drew in a ragged breath, the sound of it scraping along her throat. Her lips had started tinging blue slightly from oxygen deprivation as her lungs stopped being able to function properly for themselves. 

Yasha sat Beau up so that she could hopefully breathe a little easier, and hesitantly slouched onto the bed, finding a semi-comfortable position, before drawing Beau into her lap. The position meant that she was almost a bed for Beau, and hopefully the angle would help her breath. This way, if she started coughing up more fluid, Yasha could hopefully stop her from drowning in it. She wrapped her arms around Beau - not too tight, she was having trouble breathing - one around her waist, and the other on her chest, massaging small circles into the skin. Beau let out a quiet sigh and slumped down a little more, so Yasha figured that the circles were hopefully helping. 

Yasha wasn't entirely sure when she fell asleep, but when she awoke, she felt a surge of panic when she realised Beau was no longer in her lap. In fact, Beau wasn't even in the bed. In fact, she couldn't see Beau at all. She started raiding the room, before going next door to see if she were in with the others. No, she wasn't there. She wasn't anywhere. What had happened? 

Yasha was just starting to panic when she saw a figure walking down the hall, wrapped in a bathrobe, heading towards their room with a bundle of blue clothes in her arms. 

"Beau?!" Yasha half-ran over to her in a surge of panic. She wrapped her arms tightly around her friend, ignoring the indignant grunt and the wet hair that immediately fell on her face. "Where were you? I was so worried!" 

"Sorry," Beau mumbled. "I left a note. Needed a bath." 

"What are you doing up and about?" Yasha snapped, perhaps a little too aggressively. She took Beau's hand in her own and started leading her back to the room. "You should be resting Beauregard, you-" 

Yasha voice caught in her throat and she felt the fear that had been threatening to consume her suddenly become overwhelming. She couldn't lose Beau. Not after Zualla. Not after Mollymauk. 

Beau pushed open the door, pulling Yasha inside. When had she taken the lead? She put both hands on Yasha's face, and forced her gaze up from the floor. 

"Look at me, Yash." Beau said softly. Yasha half-looked up, but couldn't meet Beau's eyes. "No,  _really_ look at me." Beau insisted. 

Finally, Yasha looked at Beau's face. Her wet hair was hanging around her in lank curtains. Her eyes seemed... brighter, than they had been in a while. Open properly, not half-lidded and drowsy. Her face had returned to its natural soft brown colour, and she'd stopped shaking. The hands on Yasha's face were cool, but not cold, and she'd spoken clearly, without even a trace of slur. The dark rings around her eyes had disappeared and her lips were full of soft, no longer cracked and dry. 

"Think all I needed was a little angel magic." Beau said with a half-smile. 

And before Yasha knew what she was doing, she was sweeping Beau up into her arms once more, except this time their lips were together and Yasha's hands held Beau delicately - so fucking delicately - as though afraid she merely crumble beneath her fingertips. Beau leaned into the kiss, and Yasha found her hands exploring Beau. Her hair, which was clean and full of life. Her forehead, which was no longer burning hotter than Jester's skin always did. Her cheeks, slightly warm, though Yasha didn't think that was the fever. The beat of her pulse in her throat when Yasha rested a hand gently on her neck. 

"This is great." Beau pulled away from Yasha reluctantly, before sneaking back for another little peck. "But I was on death's door like eight hours ago. I could really use some food and some sleep." 

"Yes," Yasha said. "Sorry. Of course." 

"Don't be sorry," Beau said, a soft, almost shy smile lighting her face. "You just saved my damn life." 

Yasha allowed herself just a small smile (real this time) also. "I'll go and get you some food." 

Beau pressed another kiss to Yasha's lips as she turned to leave, and then another and then another, before gently putting Yasha away. "Ok, I really am fuckin' hungry." she said reluctantly. "Can you see if you can find some clean clothes, too?" she asked, almost timidly, gesturing to the bloody and sweat-soaked vestments on the floor. 

"Of course." Yasha said. "I'll grab some on the way back, just..." her eyes searched Beau's face as though she couldn't find the right words. 

"Yeah?" Beau prompted. 

"Fuck, I'm just so glad you're ok." Yasha blurted out. 

Beau smiled. "Me too." 

And although she was hungry and tired, she  _was_ ok. 

She knew that no matter what happened, her family had her back. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you all enjoyed this! All kudos and comments (including constructive criticism) are welcome! Anyway, I hope y'all have a lovely day :-)
> 
> [As a sidenote, I'm not great at tagging so if you think there's any other tags - especially TW tags - that should be added, please let me know so that I can add them :)]


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